


Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

by edema_ruh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Arguments, Blood, Crying, Despair, Emotions, Established Relationship, Fights, Forgive Me, Graphic Description, Graphic description of torture, Guns, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Rescue, Torture, Violence, Whump, Worry, and I am sorry, anyway, deathwish, explicit!!!torture!!!, this is basically just grantaire suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6879844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edema_ruh/pseuds/edema_ruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is captured by enemies of the Amis de l'ABC and Enjolras has to do whatever it takes to save him before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Amis were well aware that as time passed and their activism grew more efficient, their enemies grew in equivalent proportion. And even if a great part of the population agreed with their ideas, there was still those who were willing to reach for violence to stop them from making an actual change in the world. 

Enjolras and Grantaire had been arguing that night, but that was not uncommon. 

What was uncommon was that they had been dating for nearly a year, and for that same amount of time no fight as bad as this had happened. It all started when Enjolras proposed yet another protest – the fourth on that month -, and Grantaire, fed up with that subject, rose from his seat. 

"I can't believe you're still insisting on this", Grantaire mocked, a scorning look on his face. "Don't you remember what happened last protest we made?" 

Enjolras rolled his eyes, suddenly annoyed at his boyfriend's interruption. Someone had thrown a rock at Enjolras' head on the last protest, and Grantaire was the one to pick him up and take him to the hospital, never leaving the place until Enjolras finally woke up two days later. They had had a serious conversation after that, agreeing that Enjolras would be more careful when planning protests, only gathering people to rally when it was absolutely necessary. 

"We can't let a rock stop us", Enjolras said, though he knew, deep inside him, that it was probably one of the worse things to say on that moment. He could sense Grantaire tensing up. "That's exactly what our enemies want". 

"You do realize you almost died, right?" Grantaire said, raising his voice slightly due to his emotion. Joly grabbed his arm, trying to pull his friend back and make him sit down, but Grantaire shrugged the doctor's hand off. "If that rock had hit you a little more to the left, you would have died". 

"But I didn’t", Enjolras refuted, angry at Grantaire for not seeing the importance of what he did, the importance of their activism. "I'm still alive, and I won't stop rallying because a group of bigots want me to fail!" 

"A group?" Grantaire asked, approaching Enjolras. "Enjolras, we're talking about _thousands_ of bigots, thousands of people who are willing to _commit murder_ to stop you from succeeding! You can't wave this shit off, they're dangerous and they're relentless!" 

"We can outnumber them!" Enjolras said, raising his voice as well. "As soon as the people realize that they have power, that we can make this world better if we work together, we will defeat the opposition and we will succeed!" 

"Can't you hear how naïve you sound?" Grantaire shouted. "You're willing to trust people who don’t even know you with your life! You trust they'll rise and help when you and I know they won't!" 

"You're the one who's incapable of believing anything!" Enjolras shouted, angry. "I am not naïve, the number of people attending our protests is increasing exponentially and the tendency is that the numbers will keep growing, you are the one who's so caught up in your self-centered nihilism that you became unable to believe facts even when there's concrete proof on your face!" 

"I can't fucking believe you!" Grantaire threw his hands on the air, an incredulous smile on his face. "We talked about this, Enjolras. You promised you wouldn’t make another protest unless it was a matter of extreme im-" 

"Don't you dare bring our personal life into th-" 

"And here you are, walking over your promises all over again-" 

"What we talk in privet stays in privet, I don’t need to hear you humiliating me in front of our friends just because-" 

"Just like you always do, I don’t even know why I keep trusting you will-" 

"If you could only trust me for once, just this once, that I will make things right-" 

"But you can't change, can you, Enjolras, you'll just keep risking your life until you die in my fucking arms and scar me for life-" 

"But instead you insist on drinking you goddamn life away instead of giving your best to help our cause and actually give people a better life-" 

"Because that's what you are, you are my whole life, and I don’t know what I would do if you died because of something as frivolous-" 

"Which is why I doubt we're meant to be together!" 

A long silence followed. Grantaire stopped himself before he could continue speaking, mouth hanging open in shock. The light in his eyes slowly dimmed, until it was completely gone. His face paled considerably, and- god, were those...? Were those tears pooling in his eyes? Enjolras stared at his boyfriend in shock, finally realizing the weight of his words and the effect they must have had on Grantaire. 

"R, I didn’t mean it" Enjolras said, reaching for Grantaire's arm, but the man drew it away as if Enjolras' hand was made of fire. "R, please, you know I didn't mean it like that..." 

Grantaire quickly withdrew his jacket from the behind of his chair, putting it on and marching his way out of the Musain. 

"R! Wait!" Enjolras pleaded, but Grantaire burst through the door, ignoring the leader. Around him, all the Amis stared with mixed emotions. 

"Nice one, Enjolras", Joly spat, getting up from his chair and running after Grantaire. 

"Oh no", Enjolras mumbled, letting himself fall against Grantaire's chair, leaning his face on both hands. "I screwed everything up". 

"Joly will calm him down", Combeferre reassured, a firm hand on his best friend's shoulder. He sounded displeased, but the touch let Enjolras know he would be there for him. "Don't worry". 

Bossuet was glaring at Enjolras from across the room, but a loud noise outside the Musain caught his attention. He slowly rose from his seat, Bahorel following suit, trying to understand the reason of the commotion. Suddenly the door of the Musain opened, but no one came through. Bossuet sent Bahorel a wary look, slowly approaching the entrance. 

Suddenly, Joly came crawling backwards through the door, moving frightened and trembling. 

"Joly! What's wrong?" Bossuet asked, hurrying towards the man to aid him. He took a harsh intake of breath when he saw the blood covering his boyfriend's face. "Joly!" 

"G-G-Gr-", Joly tried to say, but Enjolras was already rushing past the pair and out the Musain. He looked around, desperately trying to find Grantaire, and the sound of a trashcan colliding with the ground called his attention. Turning around, he found a furiously kicking Grantaire being thrown inside a black car by masked men, who didn’t even spare Enjolras a look before entering the car after Grantaire.  

Enjolras stared in horror as the car quickly rushed away and doubled a corner, away from his view. 

"Grantaire", he whispered to himself, desperation filling him to the core. 

 

- 

 

When Grantaire woke up, it was dark. 

As his senses returned to him he felt the cold bindings around his wrists, stopping the blood flow towards his hands. He was propped against a wall, and when he tried to get up, he found he couldn’t. There were bindings around his ankles as well. 

He soon found that there was a blindfold around his eyes – which was why everything was dark – and a gag on his mouth – which was why nothing but a muffled groan came out when he tried to speak. He fidgeted on the floor, trying to find a more comfortable position, but he must have caught his captors' attention because suddenly there were harsh hands pulling him to his feet and throwing him against a chair. 

The blindfold was pulled away with force and sharp bright light flooded his unfocused eyes, sending a wave of pain across his skull. He blinked harshly as he looked around, trying to take in the faces of the man around him. He soon found that they were all wearing masks, making them unrecognizable. 

He tried to speak again, but the gag muffled his words, making them sound like a groan. He felt something sticky on his face, and his forehead was throbbing. 

"The little bitch is trying to speak", one of the man said. 

"Let's see if his tongue will be as loose when we ask 'im what we wanna know", another man laughed. 

Someone behind him pulled the gag away from his mouth and Grantaire coughed at the foul taste. He looked up at the man standing in front of him with anger and disdain, spitting on the floor before his feet. 

"Alright, you faggot", the man growled, reaching and pulling Grantaire by the collar of his shirt. Grantaire stared at him with defiance. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're gonna answer them, or you'll have a really bad time". 

Grantaire didn’t say a word, continuing to stare at the man. 

"You're going to give me the home address of the leader of your little group, and the names of the core members, and the dates of the next planned rallies", the man said. 

Grantaire looked at the man for several seconds before smiling and head-butting him.  

The man was thrown back, regaining balance before he could fall on his butt. He cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled, teeth red, and spat on the floor. Suddenly there was a fist against Grantaire's nose and his head was thrown back, blow sending tears to his eyes. He sniffed, feeling the blood trickle from his nose and down his upper lip. The nose was probably broken, but he could only hope that the shape had came out better this time.  

"We're not here as a fucking joke", his assaulter said, slapping him on the face. "If we don’t tell us what we want, we'll make you tell us. And we'll kill you as soon as we have everything we need". 

"You can try, fuckface", Grantaire grumbled, and didn’t even find himself surprised at the next blow to his face. 

"Boys", the man in front of him called. "Have fun with him". 

Grantaire only had time for an intake of breath before there were punches all around his body. His stomach and face took the worst of it, but he was pretty sure there was a guy punching his leg...? Maybe it was just his imagination. There was so much pain everywhere. 

After what felt like an eternity of punches and blood and pain and gagging, the men finally retreated. Grantaire was left leaning hardly against the chair, panting loudly, head lowered. His first assaulter – who he presumed to be the leader – raised Grantaire's chin so that he could look him in the eyes. 

"This isn't even the worst of it, boy", he said. "Tell me what I need and I'll make your death painless". 

Grantaire only stared, eye already swelling, trying not to gag again at the foul taste of blood inside his mouth. 

"Fine, then", the man said, removing his hand and allowing Grantaire's head to fall against his chest heavily. "I guess we'll just have to break you". 

"Bring it on, bitch", Grantaire grunted. 

A man approached him and suddenly there was a foot kicking his knee, and his kneecap was dislodged with a loud crack, and Grantaire finally let out the blood curdling scream that had been repressed on the back of his throat. 

 

- 

 

He was immersed in a world of pain. 

Passing out after the knee incident, Grantaire found himself being risen from unconsciousness with a cold bucket of water being thrown against his face. He couldn’t tell how many time had passed, but the men torturing him wasted no time. 

He was brought to his feet once more, except this time he cried out when forced to lean his weight on his dislodged knee. He wasn’t thrown against a chair this time – which his sore back thanked him for – but he was thrown face first against the floor – which made his ribs and nose protest vehemently. 

They didn’t ask questions this time. Only kicked him until he was spitting blood on the floor – had he bitten his tongue or had they burst something inside him? He couldn’t tell. When they grew tired of kicking, he was put on his back, bright lightbulb directly on his line of sight and making him flinch. 

"You ready to tell me what I want to know?" A voice above him asked. He blinked in confusion, looking for the source of the voice. 

"Jesus, he's so out of it", someone commented. 

There was a slap on his face to regain his focus. He opened his eyes again (when had he closed them?). 

"Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?" The man above him repeated, impatient. Grantaire frowned. He wouldn’t tell these people anything, why couldn't they see that...? 

Oh, they probably didn’t know him. They probably thought he was just another mindless follower of the ABC, breakable, soft. They didn’t know he would never – could never – betray Enjolras, no matter what was the price. Besides, he had endured pains worse than that. 

 _Which is why I doubt_ _we're meant to be together_ _,_ Enjolras' voice echoed across his mind. Somehow, that hurt more than anything those man had done to him so far. 

What was wrong with him? 

A sudden lightheadedness overtook him, but a tight grip on his scalp regained his attention. He was being dragged by his hair towards somewhere, and as soon as he realized that struggling only made the pain worse, he let himself fall limp at his captor's hands. 

The man came to a stop and dropped Grantaire's hair, making his head collide against the floor with a sickening thud. He was a boxer, for fuck's sake, why wasn’t he fighting back? 

Oh, right, his hands were tied behind his back, but still... he could manage something using his legs couldn’t he? A sudden throb coming from his bad knee reminded him that no, he couldn’t. He was more helpless than he had ever been his whole life. 

The man above him pulled his hair again, lifting him from his lying position, and Grantaire let out a pained moan. 

"Are you enjoying this?" The man laughed, scorned, mocked. "Look, we found ourselves a weirdo! He's actually enjoying the pain!" 

"'M not", Grantaire managed to grumble weakly. 

"Oh, so you do speak. Ready to tell me what I want to know?" 

Grantaire didn’t even look at his captor this time, only rolling his eyes. The man pulled him up by the hair again, unceremoniously shoving Grantaire's head down a tub full of water. Grantaire, taken by surprise, didn’t have time to hold his breath, and found himself struggling against the man's firm grasp on his head as the water flooded his nostrils and burned its way down his throat. 

A loud buzz had appeared on Grantaire's mind when his head was finally pulled back from the water, allowing him to loudly suck in large gulps of air after coughing up. Each cough sent stabs of pain across his ribs, and so did the intake of air, but he was nearly suffocating. 

Before he had enough time to breathe, his head was shoved inside the water once more, making him struggle and kick – despite the pain on his knee – to no avail. This time he had managed to hold his breath, but as seconds ticked by his lungs burned more and more, greedy for oxygen he couldn’t provide. Once again water flooded his nostrils, and Grantaire kicked and kicked but the man wasn’t letting go. When he finally gave in and allowed his thoughts to drift into a confused mess, his head was pulled back and he could breathe again. He coughed weakly, trying to breathe at the same time he tried to speak. 

"W-wait", he said, breathless. The hand holding his head hesitated. "I-I'll s-say, I-I'll say". 

"Good boy", the man said, pulling Grantaire upright by his armpit and dragging him towards a chair. "We won't drown you again if you tell us what you want". 

Grantaire was still struggling to breathe, but he knew he couldn’t make the man wait for much longer. 

"I d-don't know w-where the l-leader lives", Grantaire started. It was a lie, but how would his captor know that? "I-I'm n-not in his p-p-personal cycle. T-the n-next rally will b-be one w-week from n-now". That part was actually true. But Enjolras would certainly cancel the rally upon Grantaire's death, right? 

… Right? 

The man punched Grantaire's face, pushing him away from the chair with violence and dragging him back towards the tub, despite Grantaire's struggles. 

"You think I'm fucking stupid?" The man asked, mere inches away from Grantaire's face. "You think you can lie to my face and I won't notice? I know you and the fag leader have an affair, and it seems you haven't learned your lesson yet". 

Grantaire's head was shoved inside the tub again, and this time he struggled even harder to free himself, but to no avail. When he was pulled back, someone punched his face before he could breathe, and he was thrown on the floor. 

Someone kicked his ribs with enough force to make him cough up a mixture of water and blood, and he gagged while several men attacked him, kicking and throwing punches. When they finally grew tired he was dragged back to the chair, only half-conscious, and there was a knife entering his skin and making a deep cut on his shoulder blade. 

Grantaire no longer knew how many time had passed since he first got to that place. He no longer slept, he only slipped in and out of consciousness several times a day, and it was always triggered by pain or loud voices at his ear. He was aware of the person asking him questions, asking personal details about his friends, but he couldn’t give in. He couldn’t betray them. 

He was also aware of the knife cutting his back, or the blood that flooded his mouth whenever he coughed, or the pain that was present on every nerve of his body. It would be a lot easier if he gave these men what he wanted, if he just answered their questions and then died. Even death would be better than enduring that all consuming pain for longer. 

Except if he did that, they would kill Enjolras too. Probably torture him the same way they were torturing Grantaire. And wasn’t that exactly what he had been trying to prevent this whole time? Preventing Enjolras from suffering and dying? 

A knife was embed on his shoulder and he didn’t even have the strength to scream anymore, only whimper. He couldn’t take that. He was a coward, he couldn’t. He just wanted that to end. He couldn’t turn Enjolras in, and honestly, he wasn’t being of any use to those men. It was only a matter of time before they realized that and killed him. 

He must have shared some of these thoughts aloud, because suddenly he was being moved, and a menacing voice on his ear whispered something that sounded like "your whish is my command" before shoving his head back in the water. 

Grantaire struggled against the grip, uselessly. Only a few seconds passed before the water invaded his mouth and nose, drowning him. He kicked and trashed, grasping on the thin thread of hope that still lingered within him. Suddenly, the pressure pushing his head down the water disappeared, but his face remained immersed in the liquid. 

He could hear faint sounds of flesh hitting flesh and bodies dropping around him, but there was no strength left inside his body for him to move his head out of the water. He tried, but he only managed to drag himself across the edge of the tub uselessly, sliding along it but head still beneath the water. He could feel his good leg kicking, fighting, but he had no energy left. A loud popping sound that sounded like a gunshot echoed somewhere beside him, but it felt like it was miles away. A growing buzz was flooding his head and making it hard to concentrate, and the burning on his lungs had dulled and became more of a background ache... a phantom pain... 

He felt peaceful. 

And then suddenly, hands on his shoulders, pulling him back, lying him down carefully on his back on the cold wet floor. It was so cold... 

His sluggish brain took some time to process he was no longer under water, but when he tried to breathe in, no air reached his lungs. There was a familiar voice talking to him, calling him and pleading, but he couldn’t remember who that person was or understand what they were saying. 

He could hear himself wheezing loudly and wetly, desperately struggling to breathe in but unable to. The loud buzz behind his ears only grew and grew until the soft voice – which sounded like it was crying now – disappeared under it. There was only silence, and a high pitched whistle on the back of his mind, and darkness, and numbness. He couldn’t even feel the cold anymore. 

But then there was a pressure on his chest. He could barely feel it at first, but it grew stronger until it was the only thing he could feel at all. The painful pressure on his chest, pushing and pushing and pushing until- 

A harsh pain flooded Grantaire's system as he coughed up the water filling his lungs. Everything burned, burned so deep that made tears escape his eyes as he continued to expel the water inside his body. There was a steady hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, and a familiar voice behind him, supporting him, balancing him as he finally finished his coughing fit and felt heavily against the arms propping him up, unable to sustain his body upright any longer. 

"Oh my god, you're alive, oh my fucking... I thought I had lost you, oh my god, I love you so much", the person holding him against their arms said, doing their best to hug him without inflicting any more pain. 

Grantaire looked up, mind still sluggish, taking some time to recognize Enjolras. His eyes were rimmed red and puffy, and he had droplets of fresh blood smeared across his cheek. His hair was disheveled and he looked like a mess, but he was still the most beautiful man Grantaire had ever seen.  

"'Jolras?" Grantaire tried to say, but the mere word made his throat burn. Enjolras must have noticed from the way Grantaire flinched, because he held the man tighter against his chest, a trembling hand caressing Grantaire's curls as he shushed him. 

"Shh, no talking, you need to rest", Enjoras instructed, and Grantaire let his mouth fall shut, feeling weaker by the second. 

"We need to take him to a hospital immediately", Joly's frantic voice said from somewhere behind Grantaire. 

"We need to take you to a hospital ok?" Enjolras asked, gently nudging Grantaire's chin. The cynic's eyes were half closed, one eye already swollen shut, and he looked up at Enjolras with unfocused eyes. 

"Kay", Grantaire mumbled. "Love you, 'Jolras". 

"I love you too", Enjolras said, voice trembling with emotion. "And I'm sorry. This is on me". 

"Not your fault", Grantaire managed to mumble as Enjolras picked him up, bridal style. This upset Grantaire's injuries, making him cry out weakly. 

"I'm sorry", Enjolras immediately said. "About... everything. I didn’t mean what I said that day. I need you to know that, ok, R? I need you to know that I love you, and that I want to be with you for the rest of my life, ok?" 

"Hnng", was all Grantaire mustered through the pain and lightheadedness overcoming him. 

"Please, be ok", Enjolras muttered, hurrying with Grantaire out of the house they were keeping him captive and towards the car parked outside. 

"Love you too, 'Jolras", Grantaire mumbled, half-conscious, as Enjolras put him inside the car with Joly's help and climbed in right after him, leaning the cynic's head on his lap as Bossuet took off from the scene as quickly as he could. 

"I'll be with you for as long as you want me to", Enjolras reassured, looking deep into Grantaire's half closed eyes. 

"F'rever?" Grantaire asked, barely conscious anymore. 

"Forever", Enjolras reassured, pulling his boyfriend's hand towards his lips and placing a heartfelt kiss on the top of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Day 1 

Enjolras burst back into the Musain, eyes slightly wide but face otherwise stoic. 

"What the hell happened?" Courfeyrac asked, aiding Combeferre into whatever first aid they could provide to Joly. Bossuet kneeled beside his boyfriend, holding his hand and squeezing it periodically as if to remind the half-conscious man of his presence. 

 "Enjolras?" Jehan approached him, a frown on his brow and hand outstretched midair as if to hold Enjolras' arm, but never doing so. "Are you ok?" 

There was a pressure around Enjolras' throat, making the passage of air more difficult. He found he could no longer move, it was as if he was stuck to the ground, the only movement his body was performing was the rise and fall of his chest, which was increasing by the second. Jehan must have noticed he was in shock, because the poet was suddenly by his side, pulling a chair and helping Enjolras to sit on it. 

"I don’t think Joly will need to go to a hospital", Combeferre finally announced, earning several relieved sighs across the Musain. "But he has a nasty concussion and needs rest and time to heal". 

"Are you sure 'm not dying?" Joly slurred, eyelids dropping close as soon as Bossuet pulled him carefully from the ground and embracing him. 

"No sleeping, mister!", Combeferre ordered, and Bossuet had to shake him slightly for Joly's eyelids to open again. "And no, you're not dying. You'll be fine" 

"But what happened, Enjorlas?" Courfeyrac insisted, frowning at the blond. Enjolras was pale, paler than Courfeyrac had ever seen him, and his breathing was irregular and fast. He was frowning, but he looked as if he had just seen a ghost. 

"Let's give Enjolras some space", Combeferre instructed, approaching his best friend with caution. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?", he asked, lowering his voice so that only Enjolras could hear him. The leader looked up at him, nothing but sheer despair in his eyes as he gazed at Combeferre. His eyes were dry, but they showed more emotion than it was usual. 

"They took him, Ferre", Enjolras finally said, voice breaking. Around the Musain, gasps of shock echoed. "Some men, I've never seen them before, threw him inside a car and disappeared" 

"They p'nched me when I tried to help", Joly slurred from his position, nested against Bossuet. "Hit me w'th a bar. I crawl'd back b'fore they caught me too". 

"Jesus, Enjolras", Combeferre sighed, shocked. 

"We need to take this to the police!", Bossuet exclaimed, indignant. 

"The police won't help us", Combeferre bit his lower lip. "Not after the last rally. We're on our own". 

"What are we going to do?!" Jehan asked, frightened. "We can't leave R on the hands of these animals!" 

"We won't", Combeferre said, sparing a glance at Enjolras. He looked troubled, despite trying to hide it, and he was nervously biting down on his nails, an habit he had quit years ago. Combeferre frowned in worry. 

"Are we saying we should take this matter on our hands?" Bahorel asked, stepping forwards. 

"Precisely", Combeferre responded, briefly cleaning his bloodied hands with a napkin before fishing his phone out of his pocket. "The police won't meddle in this and Grantaire is not only our friend, but also has a lot of information on our group and on Enjolras' personal life. These men surely kidnapped him for a reason. We can't let them-" 

"He wouldn't betray us", Bossuet protested. "Never". 

"From the state of Joly's face I don’t doubt they will have no boundaries as to how they extract information", Combeferre retorted, impatient. "We're talking about more than punches and blows with a bar. We're talking about tort-" 

"Enough", Enjolras interrupted, finally standing up from his seat with shaky legs. He looked older, somehow. Tired, wiser. His eyes were dry. 

"I will call Grantaire's phone number", Combeferre announced. "Maybe they'll pick up, maybe we can make a deal-" 

"You will do no such thing", Enjolras said, stoic. He looked more like a leader than ever. 

"What do you propose, then?" Combeferre frowned. 

"Bahorel, do you still have that friend that handles the city surveillance?" Enjolras asked. 

"Yeah", Bahorel nodded. "We haven't talked in a while, but I still have her contact". 

"Contact her. Ask her for surveillance on this street since the beginning of the day. Feuilly, do you still have the contact of that guy who works with the DMV?" 

"Say no more", Feuilly answered, already fishing his phone and dialing a number. 

"Enjolras", Combeferre said, grabbing his friend's arm on an attempt to call his attention. "Even if we track them, what will we do? Just burst into their hiding spot by surprise and take Grantaire back without being seen?" 

Enjolras stared at Combeferre for a long time, not a single emotion appearing on his face. 

"Jehan", he called, still looking at Combeferre. "You still have Montparnasse's contact?" 

"Y-yeah", Jehan hesitated. "But... we haven't spoken in months, I'm not even sure-" 

"Call him", Enjolras interrupted, finally tearing his gaze away from Combeferre's worried eyes and turning to face Jehan. 

"And... what should I tell him?" Jehan frowned. 

"Tell him we're going to need as many guns as he can get us". 

Enjolras was a charming young man who was capable of being terrible. 

- 

Enjolras didn’t sleep that night. 

His bed was too empty, too cold. It smelt too much like Grantaire for him to lay down on it without bursting into tears. 

He promised himself he wouldn’t cry. 

Crying would do him no good, would it? Crying would make it all real. And it couldn’t be real. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he never saw Grantaire again. 

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his last words to Grantaire were- 

Enjolras felt a wave of self loathing wash through him. He always forgot how deep effect his words had on Grantaire, and whenever they fought he let his emotions take the best of him. He hardly ever did that to anybody else; it was as if Grantaire had a special talent at pissing him off and making him lose control of himself. He never meant to hurt Grantaire, he loved him, but he always ended up wounding the man somehow. 

And now Grantaire had been kidnapped, and it was his fault. 

He could nearly hear the man's voice beside him, telling him to stop blaming himself in that sarcastic, hoarse voice tickling his neck and sending shivers down his spine. Enjolras took a deep breath and let his head fall against the back of the couch, unable to even feel sleepy. 

He remembered the way Grantaire's expression had shifted as soon as Enjolras' words left his mouth, he remembered the hurt, the misguided realization, the betrayal... he remembered the despair in his eyes just as his head disappeared through the car door, he remembered clearly the sound of his steps as he marched out of the Musain... 

Enjolras found himself holding his phone to his ear, a dialing sound echoing through the silent apartment. In nearly no time, it reached Grantaire's voice mail. 

_Hey, this is R. if you're calling about money I may or may not owe you, I'll let you know I changed numbers, sorry. If you're literally anyone else for whom I do not owe money, then leave your message after the tiny beep. If you're_ _Enjolras_ _then I'm sorry for not picking up, I'm probably busy planning a big surprise to you. Don't worry about me though, you won't find me passed out on my art studio (but you should check just in case). Anyway, love you! And brace yourself, the beep is_ _comi_ _-_  

The message was cut off by the beep. Enjolras found himself at a loss of words, which was so uncommon, he could only find strength to hang up. He fought the tears that were trying to pool on his eyes, blinking them away and biting his lip to prevent a sob from escaping his throat. He gave himself a headache from his effort on not crying, but he had promised himself he would only allow himself to cry when he had Grantaire in his arms once more. 

On the next morning he went and checked Grantaire's art studio, just in case. 

It was empty. 

- 

Day 2 

Enjolras thought it would be better if everyone met at Combeferre's place, instead of the Musain. 

Bahorel arrived with the footage on a pendrive a bit after noon. The Amis analyzed the footage several times – Enjolras had to politely look away after the second time; seeing Joly getting struck by a bar on the head and Grantaire struggling and kicking as a man covered his mouth and muffled his screams was too much for Enjolras. He could only hope his boyfriend was still alive, as he saw him disappear inside the car. 

As soon as they had a plaque, Feuilly took off – with Bahorel; they decided they wouldn’t be going out alone anymore – and went meeting his friend on the DMV. There was nothing any of the other amis could do for the time being, so most of them decided to go home. 

Enjolras stayed at Combeferre's, alongside Courfeyrac. 

They both were the closest to Enjolras. But still, he wouldn’t allow himself to cry, not even in front of them. 

Grantaire would be fine, right? So there was no need to waste tears on him. He would be just fine. 

"You know you can trust us, Enj", Courfeyrac said, taking Enjolras' hand into his and squeezing it reassuringly. "It's ok to let everything out. We won't judge you for it". 

"We are here for you, no matter what", Combeferre said, placing a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. "It's ok to feel, Enjolras, there is nothing wrong with that". 

"He will be fine", Enjolras managed to say, voice low. He failed to keep it from shaking and felt a stab through his heart. "He will be fine. We'll find him". 

"We will", Combeferre agreed at the same time Courfeyrac gave his hand another squeeze. "But we know how worried you must be. It's ok if you wan-" 

"I'm fine", Enjolras burst, pulling his hand away from Courfeyrac's and shrugging away from Combeferre's touch. Their closeness, their physical contact suddenly became too overwhelming. Everything felt too overwhelming. He found he could barely breathe properly. 

"Enjolras, you're not", Combeferre sighed sadly. "It's ok if you don’t want to talk about this, but you can't keep your feelings locked up this time. Just let it all out, it will make you feel-" 

"I said I'm fine, Combeferre", Enjolras interrupted, keeping his voice from shaking this time. He sounded detached. He probably looked more like a marble statue than ever, but he was too afraid to look in a mirror to see if he was right. 

"Alright", Combeferre raised both hands midair, dropping the subject. "I won't pressure you, then. But we need to talk about your plan of action". 

"Yeah, I agree", Courfeyrac said, standing up. "What do you have in mind?" 

"We'll find where they are and we'll rescue Grantaire", Enjolras said, turning his back to his friends and breathing harshly through his nose. ""We'll shoot them down if we must". 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged a look before speaking up. 

"This is not a plan, it's suicide", Combeferre said, ignoring the way Enjolras' hands tightened into fists. "Haven't it crossed your mind that this is exactly what they'll be expecting?" 

"They won't be expecting us to have guns", Enjolras said through gritted teeth. "We may organize protests but we're a pacifist group. We spread pacifist ideals. They won't expect us to have weapons, to be armed-" 

"You're willing to put our ideals to the side to rescue Grantaire?" Combeferre asked. "You're willing to take someone's life? How do you plan on living with that?" 

"I'll do what must be done", Enjolras said. "I won't let Grantaire suffer because of my-" 

"Stop blaming yourself!" Combeferre interrupted. "This is not your fault, you did nothing wrong, you were just fighting for something you believed in! The only ones to blame are the man who kidnapped Grantaire". 

"But if I hadn't said those things to him he wouldn’t have burst out of the Musain-" 

"You guys fight all the time, Enjolras!" It was Courfeyrac who interrupted this time. "You couldn’t have known what would happen. They were probably after you-" 

"That's not helpful, Courf-" 

"I can't let him die!", Enjolras yelled, knocking a glass against the wall in pure anger. "I can't let him die on me. I _won't_ ", he growled. "I will do whatever it takes. I will walk through hell". 

"Enjolras-", Combefere tried. 

"I love him!", Enjolras breathed out through his nose, gripping the edge of a table and trying not to break anything else. He hated these moments, when his emotions mixed together and turned into anger. That was exactly the behavior that put them all in this whole mess in the first place. "I have never felt like this before, about anyone. I won't lose him. I can't lose him, specially not after everything I said. I can't. I won't". 

"Enjolras..." 

Enjolras' phone started to ring before Courfeyrac could say anything else. He angrily pulled it off his pocket, squeezing it and poking the screen with too much strength. It was Jehan. 

"Jehan", Enjolras said briefly. He could feel Combeferre tense up behind him. 

"H-hey, Enjolras", Jehan greeted, but he sounded... hesitating. Under pressure. 

"Did you get what I need?" Enjolras went straight to the point. 

"Y-yeah, well, about t-that..." Jehan said, voice shaky. Enjolras frowned. "I think it would be better if y-you and M-M-Montparnasse met in p-person. Like, right now. Please", the last word was basically whispered, as if Jehan was terrified. 

"Tell me where", Enjolras growled through gritted teeth. 

Jehan gave him an address, and Enjolras hung up without a second thought. He hoped Montparnasse could collaborate for once, or Grantaire's kidnappers wouldn’t be the only ones feeling his wrath. He put his phone back into his pocket and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind himself and ignoring his friends calling his name. 

- 

He was greeted by two men on the door of the apartment, both armed to the teeth and staring menacingly at Enjolras.  

"Where's Montparnasse?" The leader asked, unthreatened by the men.  

"And who are you?", one of them asked. 

"Someone you should let inside this room if you value your faces". 

They exchanged a look, grinning.  

"Listen, blondie... You look too pretty to fulfill your threat, so I'll let-" 

He was interrupted by Enjolras fist on his jaw.  

His partner raised his gun to Enjolras' head, looking furious. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, you little bitch?" The man yelled. "I'm going to fucking blow your brai-" 

"Put the gun down, Gueulemer", a silk-like voice came from behind the door. The man pointing the gun to Enjolras' head didn’t obey, eyeing the door with confusion instead. "Are you deaf? Do as I said and let our guest in". 

Gueulemer slowly lowered the gun, never taking his eyes from Enjolras' angry face. Without turning around, he twisted the handknob, opening the door and eyeing Enjolras suspiciously as he marched inside the room. 

The first thing Enjolras noticed was how the place was dim and Montparnasse sitting casually on a chair in the middle of the room. As Enjolras walked further into the room, he noticed that Jehan was kneeling on the corner of the room, hands tied before him and mouth covered by a gag. There were tears on his eyes. 

"Enjy-boy!" Montparnasse greeted, outstretching both arms as his lips tightened in a humorless smile. "Long time no see". 

"Why the hell did you tie Prouvaire up?" Enjolras spat angrily. "He's one of mine and I thought you were friends". 

"Oh, we are", Montparnasse chuckled. "But business is business, right? If I let every personal matter get in front of my business, well... I would be as broke as your little group of merry men, wouldn’t I? Plus, I missed you. How else was I supposed to lure your pretty face into my den?" 

"If it's business that you want then let's talk business", Enjolras scorned. "Untie Prouvaire and let's talk about what I want". 

"Ah, you break my heart", Montparnasse fake pouted. "You clearly did not miss me as much as missed you. But if it's business that you want, then it's business we shall talk. Gueulemer, untie the pretty poet and then do us both a favor and take Babet somewhere he can't embarrass himself as much". 

Gueulemer did as he was told and untied Prouvaire with more harshness than necessary. Enjolras tried to eye him reassuringly and nodded. Jehan stood up on shaky feet and walked until he was standing behind Enjolras. 

"So, Enjy", Montparnasse sing-sang. "What... is it... that you need?" 

"Guns", Enjolras said. "Today. I just want to rent them, then I'll return them to you as soon as I'm done". 

Montparnasse raised a single perfect eyebrow before smiling. 

"May I ask why do you need them?", he asked, voice velvety. 

"No", Enjolras answered with impatience. Jehan shivered behind him. "Just name your price and give me the guns". 

"You're sounding too cocky for my liking", Montparnasse said, voice dry and absent of all its previous humor. "I may as well not give you anything other than a bruise on your pretty face". 

"Please", Enjolras said, through gritted teeth. He could feel himself blushing for the humiliation that pleading for Montparnasse brought. 

"Oh, what was that?" Montparnasse turned his head and brought a hand up to his ear. 

"I said please", Enjolras said, not looking at Montparnasse. "The Amis and the Patron-Minette have done dealings like this before in the past. We may disagree on basically everything but we helped you when you needed. It would only suit your reputation if you could do some retribution". 

"You're right", Montparnasse shrugged, leaning against his chair. "But I sure like to hear pleads coming from your pretty, rosy lips. So maybe if you do it again I'll even give you a discount". 

Enjolras glared at Montparnasse for what felt like an eternity. His pride was trying to keep him from letting the words leave his mouth, but the image of Grantaire struggling against several men as they shoved him inside a car made him lower his head in compliance. 

"Please, Montparnasse", he whispered, cheeks burning. "Rent me the guns I need". 

"What was that?" Montparnasse fake-frowned. "I couldn’t hear you from here". 

"Enjolras", Jehan whispered behind him, sounding terrified. 

"Please", Enjolras repeated, looking at Montparnasse in the eye and glaring. 

"Alright, I think I'm satisfied", Montparnasse said, finally getting up from his chair. "How many do you need?" 

"Nine, at least", Enjolras said, letting a shaky breath out. Montparnasse hummed. 

"Well, it really makes me curious as to why a pacifist little group like yours would need nine guns, but I'll respect your boundaries for once. Since you begged so nicely for me, I'll give you 10% off. If you take them and return them two days from now, it will only cost you 1K". 

"1K?" Enjolras frowned in indignance. Montparnasse raised both eyebrows. 

"Do you want them or not?" 

"Yes", Enjolras said, biting his lower lip. "I do". 

"Since you've never let me down before, I'll let you pay when you return them", Montparnasse said, starting to stock the guns inside a bag and handing it to Enjolras. "But I want them back in two days. And Jehan Prouvaire has to be the deliverer". 

Jehan shivered again behind Enjolras, but remained silent. 

"Why Prouvaire?" Enjolras asked. Montparnasse basically strolled his way across the room, towards Jehan. Enjolras stood in front of him protectively. 

"Oh, I just love seeing him quiver and shake beneath me", he purred, outstretching his hand to catch a strand of Jehan's red hair. The poet leaned away in fear. 

"Alright. He will bring your guns back in two days", Enjolras said, throwing the backpack over his shoulder and grabbing Jehan's sweaty hand. "Let's go, Jehan". 

"Always nice talking to you, Enj", Montparnasse purred from behind him as they both exited the room, Enjolras practically dragging the small poet behind him. It was only when they were outside of the building that Enjolras turned around and took Jehan's face into his, checking him carefully. 

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?" He asked, looking at Jehan's face carefully. 

"N-no", Jehan said, breathing heavily. "He didn’t. I'm ok", he took in a shaky breath before continuing. "But please, Enjolras, don’t make me go back there, I don’t know if I..." 

"It's ok", Enjolras pulled Jehan into a hug, despite not feeling too eager to have much physical contact. "You won't have to. I won't send you back here, don't worry. You did good today, I'm sorry". 

"It's ok", Jehan shuddered against Enjolras' arms. "It's for R". 

Enjolras pulled back, breaking the hug. 

"We need to go", Enjolras announced. "We need... I need..." 

"Enjolras", it was Jehan's turn to take Enjolras' face. "None of this is your fault. I need you to know that ok? I know you're afraid and so am I, but R is tough and we're going to bring him back. He knows it's not your fault". 

This was the closest Enjolras got to crying. The tears pooled on his eyes and blurred Jehan from his view. He turned his head upwards, blinking. Jehan took his hand and squeezed it. 

"We'll bring him back", Jehan repeated, reassuringly. 

- 

Day 3 

"Enjolras, please eat something", Combeferre pleaded, shoving a plate with sliced apples on his face. 

"I'm not hungry", Enjolras took the plate and placed it on the table in front of him as he scribbled frantically on the notebook on his lap. "Is everyone ready?" 

"Yes", Combeferre sighed, rolling his eyes. "Are you sure about this?" 

"I told you, if you don’t want to go you don’t have to", Enjolras said, not looking at his best friend. "I don't want anyone risking themselves unwillingly". 

"Now you're just offending me", Combeferre sat on the couch beside him. "If you want to walk through hell, you can be sure I'll be right behind you". 

Enjolras looked at his best friend, who was gazing at him with a heart warming look. 

"Thank you, Combeferre", Enjolras said with sincerity. 

"If we're really going to do this today, you need to be strong. So please just eat the apple?" 

Enjolras sighed, giving in. 

"Alright", he said, picking one of the slices and eating it. 

The drive to the building was a blur to Enjolras. With the plaque they found, they tracked the car and found a building a few kilometers away from the Musain. It was an abandoned apartment building in the middle of nowhere, which was the perfect place to hold someone captive or- 

Enjolras didn’t want to think about the word torture, but he had already accepted that was not only a possibility but a high probability. It was Combeferre nudging his arm that made him realize they were near the building – not near enough to be seen but near enough to walk to it. 

"Alright", Enjolras said, calling the attention of his friends. Not all of them had gone – Jehan, Feuilly and Marius had stayed at Combeferre's. "We don't shoot to kill, ok? Unless it's extremely necessary. We'll just shoot to incapacitate and for self-defense". The Amis nodded. "Me, Bahorel an Feuilly go first. The rest of you follow us closely and cover for us. Be careful, and if you see things are about to go south, get out of there. Remember, our priority is Grantaire". 

Enjolras felt the steady beat of his heart increase as he, Bahorel and Feuilly approached the door. He could be about to rescue Grantaire, or he could get his friends killed and get himself captured. He knew that shooting the front guards at the entrance was the point of no return, but he could only think of the pain on Grantaire's eyes right before he left the Musain, and the desperation of his kicks as he was kidnapped. He raised his arm and shot one of the guards on the shoulder. 

The man he shot fell to the floor with a shout, calling the attention of his partner, who was shot on the shoulder too by Bahorel. The three quickly walked through the door as Combeferre and Courfeyrac took the guns away from the fallen men and the others followed the trio inside. 

As they walked further into the building, more men appeared, but they took them all out without killing any of them. They checked all the rooms they passed as they went, finding all empty. There was only one room left now. 

Enjolras took a deep breath before kicking it open, taking the scene in front of his eyes in just a few seconds before finally going into action. 

There was a man shoving Grantaire's head on a tub full of water, the man's hands tied behind his back. His back and shoulders were covered in cuts, bruises and blood, his left leg twisted unnaturally, and he was struggling weakly against the man suffocating him. 

Enjolras saw red. 

As Bahorel and Feuilly shot the men on the back of the room, Enjolras threw his gun on the floor carelessly. The man assaulting Grantaire looked at them in surprise, reaching for his own gun, but Enjolras took advantage of the man's kneeling position and kicked him on the face.  

The man was sent flying back and Enjolras wasted no time. He kicked the man on the ribs, earning an 'oof', and pulled him up by the collar of his shirt. He punched him repeatedly on the face as Bahorel and Feuilly finished dealing with the other men. 

Enjolras felt his fingers cracking painfully with each punch, tears finally escaping his eyes, as he punched the man repeatedly. 

"Enjolras!" Bahorel finally broke him from his trance, yelling from where he was struggling against one of the men. "He's not moving!" 

Enjolras let go of the man, whose face was now a bloodied mess, and looked back at Grantaire. 

He had trusted Grantaire would move away from the water without a hand pushing his face down it, but that hadn't happened. Grantaire's face was still immersed on the water, and he had gone still. 

Enjolras's heart skipped a beat and time slowed down. 

He ran towards his boyfriend as fast as he could, but every millisecond it took to cross the room felt like a death sentence hanging upon Grantaire's head. He pulled the cynic by the shoulders, taking his weight against himself and carefully placing him on a lying position on the floor. 

" ** _Joly!_** " Enjolras screamed, calling for the small doctor desperately. He leaned down, placing his head against Grantaire's chest. He heard a faint heartbeat, but it was slow and irregular. 

"Please, don't leave me", Enjolras said, voice breaking. All the emotions he had felt on the past three days were bursting their way out of his chest now, and he could no longer hold the tears or the sobs. "Please, I need you. Don't leave me, not like this". 

Grantaire started making a terrible gurgling sound, eyelids half-opening but only showing the whites. It sounded like he was drowning on mud, his chest was still but his mouth was agape, trying to suck the air in. 

"Please breathe", Enjolras begged, sobbing. He tried to perform mouth-to-mouth but he didn’t know if he was doing it right and it didn’t seem to help Grantaire. "Please, breathe for me". 

Suddenly, Grantaire stopped wheezing and went still. Enjolras stared in confusion, frowning. He took Grantaire's pulse. 

There was none. 

Oh god. 

"Oh god", Enjolras said, breathing rapidly and sobbing, swallowing, crying, all at once. "Oh my god", he barely said, voice breaking. 

He noticed Grantaire's pale face was covered in bruises and blood, one of his eyes swollen shut. His entire body sustained bruises, and Enjolras didn’t need to be a doctor to know at least one of his ribs were broken. He had been tortured, just as he feared, but this...? How much pain had he endured? 

"Please, no", Enjolras shook Grantaire by the shoulders, just as Joly finally arrived upon a storm of screams and gunshots. "Please don't leave me, please, I'll do anything..." 

"Move, Enjolras!" Joly ordered with a yell, shoving Enjolras away and starting to perform CPR. Enjolras was leaning heavily against the tub, dread taking over his entire being and tears blurring his vision once more. 

"Please don't go", Enjolras begged, sobbing heavily. "Don't leave me, R, I'll do anything, just don't leave me, please, I can't do this without you, I need you, I love you" 

Joly was altering between massaging Grantaire's chest and blowing air inside his mouth. 

"Stay with us, R", he was muttering. "Stay with us". 

Enjolras' heart felt like it was about to stop any second now from the weight of grief. He could barely breathe and had lost nearly all hope when Grantaire finally coughed, a splurt of water and blood leaving his mouth. 

"Yes! Yes, let it out!", Joly urged, turning Grantaire on his side to clear his air way while rubbing soothing circles on his back. Enjolras crawled his way closer to his boyfriend as he sucked the air in greedily. 

"You're ok, R, you're ok", Enjolras said, still sobbing, propping Grantaire up to support his as he resumed coughing up the water from his lungs. The man fell heavily against his arms, panting with difficulty and frowning in pain. "Oh my god, you're alive, oh my fucking... I thought I had lost you, oh my god, I love you so much". 

Grantaire turned his head weakly to look up at Enjolras, the glassy eye that wasn’t swollen shut staring at the leader with confusion. 

"'Jolras?" He asked, voice raspy and low, and he flinched heavily from speaking. Enjolras pulled him closer, relief filling his stressed body as he caressed Grantaire's curls and shushed him when he opened his mouth to speak again. 

"Shh, no talking, you need rest", Enjolras said lovingly, voice still shaky from crying. Grantaire's mouth closed as he swallowed dry, whole body going slack against Enjolras' grip. The leader looked at Joly, who was eyeing them warily. 

"We need to take him to a hospital immediately", he announced. Enjolras nodded. 

"We need to take you to a hospital, ok?" He told Grantaire, nudging him carefully by the chin. He stared back at Enjolras with unfocused eyes. 

"Kay", he sighed, voice raspy and breathing irregular. "Love you, 'Jolras". 

Enjolras felt a stab through his heart at the words. After all the pain Grantaire endured because of him, he still loved him. How could he? 

"I love you too", Enjolras told his boyfriend with honesty. He could hear his own voice shake. "And I'm sorry, this is on me". 

"Not your fault", Grantaire slurred, eyes drifting close again. Enjolras took this as a sign and passed a hand beneath his neck and his legs, lifting him bridal style. Grantaire let out a blood curdling cry of pain, which made Enjolras feel sick to the stomach. He would have dropped the cynic in fear of hurting him if he didn’t know it would only hurt him further. 

"I'm sorry", Enjolras immediately said, sobbing again. "About... everything. I didn’t mean what I said that day. I need you to know that, ok, R? I need you to know that I love you, and that I want to be with you for the rest of my life, ok?" 

Grantaire let out a low half-conscious groan, slightly nodding at Enjolras, before going completely limp against his arms. 

"Please, be ok", he sobbed, begged, as he took Grantaire out of the building, his friends following closely behind him, and basically jogged back to the car. Joly opened the back door for him and helped him to place Grantaire inside the car carefully. He climbed in after the cynic, carefully placing the man's head on his lap and caressing the curls. 

"Love you too, 'Jolras", Grantaire mumbled, half-conscious and eyes still closed. Bossuet started the car and took off quickly, and Grantaire whimpered in pain at the sudden movement. Enjolras squeezed his hand. 

"I'll be with you for as long as you want me to", Enjolras said, remembering his words at the Musain and wanting to make sure that Grantaire believed in his love for him. 

"F'rever?" Grantaire slurred, glassy eyes looking up at him with hope and pain. 

"Forever", Enjolras reassured, taking Grantaire's hand and placing a kiss on the top of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this is bad it's nearly two am and im sleep deprived, ill probably edit it later  
> also comments and kudos make me happy and you can find me on edema--ruh.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an excuse to make my son suffer because I'm addicted to angst and I'm having a writer's block for my other fics  
> Anyway, kudos and comments make me happy, constructive criticism is always appreciated and you can find me on edema--ruh.tumblr.com  
> (Title is from Cigarettes After Sex's "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby")


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